


Get Rekt Knoth

by Madame_Tentacle



Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: I don't even know how to tag this, One Shot Collection, also doubles as vent fic because Knoth is a dolt, does it count as MarKnoth if the joke is he always fails?, others will be showing up but we'll start with these two for characters for now, please save me from myself, this will probably be the dumping zone for my dumbest shit yet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-01-23 14:07:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12509168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madame_Tentacle/pseuds/Madame_Tentacle
Summary: It's the thrilling new one shot collection that no one asked for!  How many ways can Papa Knoth suffer amidst unconditional power over his flock?  Only one way to find out!  Get rekt, Knoth.





	1. Worst Date Ever

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a birthday gift for my good friend, Cami <3 Hope you enjoy!

Only candles lit Knoth’s quarters that night--by the door, the windows, on every flat surface. Each attended to by one of Knoth’s most loyal followers: John. 

“Is this enough, Papa?” he asked, after using the last match in the box.

Knoth turned from the mirror to see John’s handiwork. “Nowhere near enough,” he replied. “Do you not understand the concept of mood lighting?”

John scratched his head. “Lighting can have a mood?”

“Yes, don’t you-” Knoth sighed and rubbed his temple. “Never you mind that, John. There’s another box of matches in one of the kitchen drawers. Use that and light a few more candles for the table, okay? Oh, and be sure it is out of the way of the meal.”

“You sure ‘bout that? There’s an awful lot already. Aren’t ya scared of it catching fire?”

Knoth winced, then forced a smile. “Now, John. Remember that talk we had on obedience in the Lord?”

“Ya, but-”

“The house will be fine.”

John bit his lip. “If ye say so, Papa…”

As John went to light more candles, Knoth inspected the table. Bottles of wine, plates of corn, potatoes, and fresh vegetables surrounded a roast pig that took up most of the space--the head intact and still steaming. Only one small space near the center remained unoccupied.

"Where in the Lord’s name is Simeon?” Knoth asked. “She’ll be here any moment and I don’t see any flowers!”

At that moment, Simeon stumbled in. He huffed for breath as he held out a handful of wildflowers. “Dreadful sorry I took, Papa! I had to travel mighty far to find these!”

Knoth hobbled over to inspect the bouquet. Most of the flowers were shriveled and dry, their colors faded. Only a handful of vibrant cacti flowers made the display presentable. “This is the best you could do?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

“I’m mighty sorry, but it’s hard to find purty flowers during the dry season, but they don’t look so bad in the dark like this, right?”

“Just...put it in the jar. It’ll have to do.”

While Simeon went to put the flowers in a clay jar, Knoth fetched a lace doily and placed it on the empty table space. The lace had faded to a dingy yellow and had a copper stain, but it was soon covered up by the jar and the makeshift bouquet.

Knoth took a step back and inspected the work. “Hm...I suppose it is acceptable enough when it’s all put together. It’ll do.” He waved his hand to dismiss the pair. “You two may leave now. Your work here is done.”

Before they could depart, there came a knocking at the door, making Knoth flinch. “My Lord, she’s here already!” He ushered John and Simeon away. “Out the backdoor, you two! Now!” He shooed them off, and hurried towards the knocking, but he first made a stop at the mirror. He slicked back a stray hair then grinned at his reflection. “May the Lord be with me tonight,” he told himself. His smile remained plastered on his face, only fading when he opened the door.

At the front step stood a young woman--tall and so buxom that her traditional gown could not hide her womanly figure and beauty beyond compare. Flaming locks of auburn hair tumbled down her back, matching freckles that sprinkled across her cheeks. She looked at Knoth with emerald eyes that sparkled thanks to tears that threatened to escape and her full, pouty lips trembled. “Oh, Papa!” she threw herself against him and wept. “Thank the Lord ye answered!”

Knoth winced at the contact. “Jane, isn’t it?” 

“No, Jane’s my sister! I’m Jolene!” she cried. “Did ye forget me?”

"No, I did not, Jolene,” he said, robotically.

“Then hold me, Papa! I had the most dreadful visions and I’m mighty scared!” She was sobbing now, but Knoth’s expression remain unchanged.

“Jolene, can’t this wait?” 

“But for how long!? The enemy is at our feet and I...I...feel so lost! I need your guidance, Papa…” Her sobs began to quiet, but she sniffled.

Knoth rolled his eyes. “Now, child. You are of strong heart and a sound mind.” He peeled her off and held her at arm’s length. “I believe you would find greater peace through prayer and meditation.”

“I-I tried that, but…” She cut off then. Her brow furrowed and her nose wrinkled. “Is something burning?”

At her statement, Knoth tossed her aside and his smile returned.

Coming up the hill was Marta. With the use of her pickaxe, she dragged a muddied body behind her, muttering scripture to herself as she walked.

The sight earned a shriek from Jolene and she ran off, screaming at the top of her lungs, but Knoth’s gaze remained on Marta as she came to the doorstep.

“Forgive my delay,” she grunted, tearing the axe from the corpse. “The enemy strayed onto my territory, and I did my part to correct them.”

“There is nothing to forgive, my dearest. The Lord rejoices in your spilling of wicked blood to cleanse our good town.”

“Many thanks for your commendation,” she grunted.

“And thank you for answering my invitation,” Knoth said. “You do me a great honor, gracing me with your presence this evening.” He stared at her then. 

She wore her usual dark, tattered rags that reeked of smoke and incense. The bags under her eyes had darkened a shade, all the more evident against her ashy, grey skin. Only her irises were paler, as they were so light they nearly faded with the white of her eyes. Then there was the blood splattered all over her, matting her dark hair and dripping from her axe. 

“And if I might be so bold as to say, you look…” he trailed off as he searched for the word until settling on, “pretty.”

Marta was silent to his compliment for a good while, unblinking even when she spoke. “Pretty what?”

Knoth’s smile faded. “Excuse me?”

“You were going to say I was pretty something, but you never finished your sentence.”

At first, Knoth opened his mouth to explain, then shook his head. “Never you mind that. Just come inside, please. You must be famished.” He stepped aside for her, but she remained still. “What is it, my dear?”

“What should be done with the enemy?” Marta asked of the corpse.

Knoth shrugged. “Eh, just leave it out here. It’s not going anywhere.”

“The stench could infect your home. Perhaps I should-”

“It’s fine,” Knoth waved a hand in dismissal.

“If you say so.” Marta hunched over so she could fit through the doorframe.

“You can leave your blade by the door.” Knoth said. “There is no need of it here.”

A tremor went through the home at the drop of her axe, making the flames flicker.

“Why are there so many candles?” she asked. “The home is at risk of catching ablaze.”

“Please, Marta!” Knoth cleared his throat when he spoke too loudly. “Come, have a seat.” 

As Marta walked to the chair, she left a trail of bloody footprints behind her, but Knoth said nothing of the mess. Only watched as she took her seat, her knees bumping on the table.

Knoth walked around so he could sit across from her, and Marta spoke out. “Why have you summoned me here tonight?”

“Oh, come now, Marta.” Knoth smiled. “Do we need a reason to dine together as we once did?”

“But the enemy never rests. Even now it lies in wait, scheming against us.”

“That is true, but how can we fight the enemy when we haven’t the strength?”

“The Lord often provides us with unseen strength within our deprivation.”

“But do we not also partake when the Lord provides for us in thanksgiving?” Knoth’s eye twitched as he spoke. 

“You are not wrong,” Marta finally admitted.

“Then let us partake!” Knoth motioned to the feast before them.

At his blessing, Marta used her thumb and index finger to lift the knife--both too large for cutlery of normal size. She narrowed her eyes at it and scowled, before she readjusted her hold to the regular manner of holding, only for the knife to slip from her bloodied fingers and clatter onto the floor.

As it fell, Knoth raised an eyebrow at Marta.

“Forgive me,” she grumbled, reaching for the knife.

“You don’t need to use silverware if you don’t to,” he said.

Marta’s hand recoiled from the fallen knife, and she went for the roast pig in the center of the table. She grabbed one of the legs and ripped it off. The tearing of the bone echoed off the walls, but Marta didn’t bat an eye--only chomped down into the still steaming meat.

Knoth was about to eat his own portion, but stopped when Marta snapped the bone in two for better access to the meal. Not once did she show sign of a strain and Knoth sighed contentedly.

“Is something the matter?” Marta asked, after snagging an ear of corn.

Knoth flinched, as if woken from a nap. “Forgive me, dear. Did you say something?”

Marta pointed at his untouched portion. “You haven’t so much as touched your dinner.”

“Oh…” His eye fell to the food. “I guess not…”

“Are you not feeling well? If you’re ill you should take rest.”

“I’m fine…” he said, through a sigh.

“Then why do you not partake?”

Knoth took a deep breath. “Maybe it’s about time I told you the truth.” He reached across the table to take one of her hands, but it landed a few inches to the side of Marta’s hand. “Oh...uh…” he moved his hand to the side slightly, muttering something about depth perception as he gripped her hand. The blood and grease made it sticky, and he was unable to close his hand around her oversized one.

“Shall we pray about it?” Marta asked, placing her other hand atop his, drowning it in callouses and blisters.

“P-pray?” Knoth shook his head. “No! That’s not what I want!”

“Then what is it you want?”

“I want you!” he blurted out. The pounding of his heart was the only sound until Marta responded.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Marta, oh my God….”

“You shouldn’t use the Lord’s name in vain.”

“You’re right, you’re right.” He reclaimed his hand so he could do a quick hail mary, but his elbow bumped against one of the candles. It toppled off the edge and caught fire at the edge of the table cloth.

Sighing, Knoth grabbed one of the open bottles of wine and poured it over the small flame. It wasn’t until the entire bottle was empty that the fire was extinguished. His expression never changed.

“There truly was no need for this many candles,” was all Marta had to say.

"I know that now,” Knoth grumbled, resting his cheek in one of his hands.

“I’ll put them out for you.” Marta stood so she could turn on the gas lamps. “You enjoy your dinner. I’ll take care of the flames.”

With only a few breaths, Marta was able to blow out all the candles, before starting for the door and reclaiming her pickaxe.

“W-wait! Where are you going? You don’t have to leave!” 

“Forgive me, Papa, but my attention is required elsewhere at this hour.” 

“Elsewhere?” Knoth seethed. “What else is there to do at this time? It’s the middle of the night!”

“Two nights prior, Miss Jolene asked that I meet with her tonight to discuss strange happenings that have happened near her home. We believe her house falls near the path the heretics travel to steal their supplies.”

“Jolene!? But she ran away from you earlier! Since when do you two talk!?”

Marta shrugged. “She don’t take too kindly to the sight of blood is all, but she’s a good, upstanding woman of Temple Gate and has turned to me with questions on your word and her concerns.”

“I….” Knoth’s mouth hung open, unable to find the words.

“If the matter were not involving the enemy, I would not leave so abruptly, but you understand the urgency.”

“Yes, I understand.” Knoth sighed heavily. “You best attend to your duties.”

“I shall, and I’ll give Jolene your regards.” Marta bowed her head. “Many thanks for sharing your table with me this evening.”

“Anytime,” he grumbled, as she sauntered out the door. With her exit, Knoth narrowed his eyes at the roast pig’s head, poking it with a fork.


	2. Get Dressed Knoth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because I've lost control of my life

Hovering by the loudspeaker, Marta waited to hear Knoth’s morning mass, but there came nothing. For the first five minutes, she fiddled with her pickaxe, retying the crucifix and adjusting the incense burner. She stopped at the ten minute mark, frowning as the silence dragged on. Come 15 minutes, she was circling the system, in an attempt to find a technical problem, some explanation for the quiet, but found none.

Then came a voice at last, but it came from neither the speaker nor the prophet.

“Yoo-hoo, Miss Marta!” Jolene called out as she skipped towards her.

Marta showed neither disdain nor surprise at Jolene’s appearance, grunting a simple, “Good morning,” to her.

“Well howdy to you too!” Jolene flashed a smile like a breath of spring. “I sure do hate to bother you at the crack of dawn, but I’m afraid we got a real pickle on our hands!”

"Papa is unaccounted for.”

Jolene gasped, hands over her mouth. “Gosh and golly gee! How did you know?!”

Marta glanced at the silent speaker, expression unchanged, then shrugged.

“And I reckon you know where he run off to!” Jolene’s emerald eyes sparkled and her smile grew.

“I have an idea,” Marta mumbled, before she walked off.

Leaving her piece, she stepped foot into the town square. Usually, the citizens screamed and fled at her presence, but this morning they were too busy calling out for their papa and searching through each building and home. She walked past them all to the well and took the large pail that sat beside it, but rather than draw watel, she took the bucket with her to a storage shed.

A single light bulb inside swayed and cast barely enough light to navigate through the dozens of crates stacked high--all filled with wine aged for communion. One of the crates was pried open and emptied of all six bottles that should have been inside. There were shards of broken glass on the floor that Marta was careful to walk around in order to reach a table with several pitchers on it with labels reading “holy water”. She emptied two of them into the pail and started out.

She made her way through the town with long, purposeful strides, paying no heed to those she walked by. It wasn’t until she entered the forest that she slowed her pace. 

There was a low rumble. It travelled through the leaves, the branches, reverberated through the ground. Small squirrels and chipmunks scurried in the opposite direction and the birds flew overhead, but Marta pressed forward, even when the noise became near deafening. The sound began to resemble a prowling beast, but when Marta found the source, it was no beast, but merely a man.

Sprawled on the forest floor was Knoth, snoring too loud for anything to break through. One of his hands held onto an empty wine bottle. A few feet to his right lied a woman’s shoe, and a few feet in another direction was a burnt patch of grass. His pants were nowhere to be seen.

Marta rolled her eyes and sighed. “Lord, forgive me,” she murmured before she proceeded to dump the ice cold holy water onto the prophet.

He jolted upright as he awoke, his bones cracking and he sputtered for breath. He clutched to his cross and his eye darted back and forth until it settled on Marta, “Marta...is that you?” he grumbled, as he rubbed his temple to stave off the impending hangover.

“Wake up,” she snapped.

Knoth yawned. “What time is it…?”

"Morning mass was due to start half an hour ago.”

“Is it that time already?” He looked to his wrist, eye widening when he found it empty. “Where did my watch go?”

“You haven’t owned a watch in over a decade.” She set the bucket beside Knoth, where a little bit of the water remained. “Drink to cleanse yourself of this hedonism.”

As Knoth drank, Marta walked off until she reached the tallest tree that wasn’t too far away. For anyone else, the lowest branch would have been too tall, but she easily reached to take down the oversized pants that dangled from it.

“Marta, where-” Before he could finish his question, Marta chucked the pants, aimed right at his face.

“Get dressed!” she ordered, then turned her back to give him a moment. “Why does the Lord test my patience so…” she said under her breath.

“Did you say something?”

“Nothing of importance.” She waited a minute longer, then turned back to Knoth. He had gotten himself dressed, but still sat on the ground, holding out a hand for her.

“Could you be a dear and help me up? I can’t feel my left leg.”

She came to him then and grabbed his hand. She yanked him up to his feet with little effort, but winced when she heard a popping sound from his shoulder. “My apologies…”

“No, that happens sometimes,” he assured without batting an eye, causing Marta’s brow to furrow in concern, yet he prattled on. “Best get to the chapel now.” He turned around and walked off, but Marta stayed behind. “Aren’t you coming, dear?”

“The chapel is the other way.”

Knoth looked over his shoulder at her. “Is it?”

Marta sighed heavily. She walked to him so she could turn him around and nudge him in the right direction. “And do be wary of the trees. You remember last ti-” She cut short so she could hurry to Knoth and stop him from bumping into a tree. “Here, let me help.” She scowled, taking his hand and dragging him through the woods until they reached the foot of the chapel, where Jolene waited for them.

“Jeepers! You found him!” Jolene hurried over to take Knoth’s hand and guide him along. “Now where on earth had you run off to, Papa?”

Knoth slurred something unintelligible in response, before collapsing again. If Jolene hadn’t hopped out of the way in time, she’d have been crushed from the weight. She looked up at Marta, eyes wide and fearful. “Lordy, Miss Marta! He’s speaking in tongues!” 

Marta looked down upon the fallen prophet for only a moment before she turned. “I’ll fetch more holy water.”


	3. In the Confessional

Knoth fought the summer heat by fanning himself with his own gospel. Outside of the chapel, there was a cool breeze that made the afternoon just tolerable, but the confessional might as well be an oven.

He checked his wrist as if there would be a watch there and sighed. It wouldn’t change the fact that he was trapped for another hour until the usual deacon in charge of confessionals returned from whatever he was busy doing. Not like Knoth was listening when he agreed to cover the shift.

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.”

“State your sins, my child,” Knoth said. He didn’t bother to straighten his posture nor stop fanning himself.

“Forgive me. For I have had sinful thoughts about Jolene.”

“Jolene?” Knoth’s tone was flat and he stopped fanning.

“Ya, y’see last when I was gettin’ the pen-i-si-lun and oxy-co-tonn fer Papa. Now I know I ain’t s’posed to look at any of them pub-li-ca-shuns from the outside, but it was an awful long wait this time and I was gettin’ antsy, so I walked around the store and I….picked up one of them Sports Illustrated magazines and...I thought Jolene would look awful purty in one of them ‘bikinis’ as they call’em. I threw the magazine from ma hand the moment the thought came to mind, but that whole day...I just thought of how darn nice it be to go swimming at the lake with Jolene, seein’ her flaming locks of auburn hair all in the wind like the woman in the magazine and-”

“It is natural for one’s eye to wander to the world’s wicked temptations, but you have returned to your flock and acknowledge your sins. Recite your act of contrition and go in peace.”

“But that ain’t all my sinful thoughts!”

“Are these other sinful thoughts also about Jolene?”

“...Yes.”

“Then let’s just skip over those and say the contrition acts as a collective for all your thoughts on Jolene.”

“Oh, okay…” He recited the act and went along his way after Knoth said, “Peace be with you.”

5 minutes later came a new voice.

“Forgive me, Father. For I have sinned.”

“State your sins, my child.”

“Forgive me. For I have had sinful thoughts about Jolene.”

Knoth groaned. “Oh my God…”

“Ain’t it a sin to use the Lord’s name in vain?”

“Well we’re not talking about my sins now, are we? This is your confession so state your tresspasses.”

“Alright,” A deep breath. “Ya see, last week I misplaced my smokin’ pipe and who be happening to walkin’ by but Miss Jolene! I asked her to help me, which she was mighty pleased to do and uh…” His tone became hushed. “She was on her hands and knees lookin’ around for it, and my eyes wandered to her lily white breasts. I looked away as fast as I could, but when she looked up at me with her eyes of I emerald green I just knew she caught me and knew I was thinking about gettin’ down in there and-”

“Let’s just skip to your act of contrition!”

“But ain’t ya curious where my pipe was?”

Knoth rolled his eye. “Where was the pipe?”

“You wouldn’t believe it! The gosh darned thing was in ma pocket the entire time!” Laughter erupted that Knoth didn’t join in on. Not even at the distinctive sound of a knee slap.

“What does that have to do with your sins?” Knoth asked through a wince.

“Nothin’! I just thought it was real funny! Jolene did too! Gosh did we laugh and laugh about that!”

“You’re both wrong. Peace be with you.”

“But ma act of contrition!”

“Say it in your prayers tonight. Go home.”

At the dismissal, Knoth was granted silence, but the moment he found peace came another voice.

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.”

“State your sins, my child.”

“Forgive me, for I have had sinful thoughts about Jolene.”

Knoth leaned his head against the back wall of the confessional. He mentally prayed for heatstroke to put him out of his misery, before speaking aloud. “I’m going to do us both a favor here. It doesn’t matter if you imagined Jolene in leather, masturbated to her bosom, or whatever other weird fetishes I don’t need to know about! Just say your act of contrition and go in peace!”

“But father...it’s much worse than any of that. Much, much worse.”

Knoth raised an eyebrow. “Worse you say?”

“Oh, yes…”

“Alright, go on…” Knoth’s tone suggested caution.

“Last night, I dreamt of Jolene. We was in a meadow and there she was in her prettiest pink dress she wears on Sundays. She had a whole picnic set up and she waved to me with her smile like a breath of spring. I went to sit with her and…”

“And?”

“I reached out and I...I…”

“Out with it!”

“I held her hand,” he said in little more than a whisper. “The entire time.”

Knoth waited for the rest, but it never came. “How is that a sin!?”

“Y’see, on account of her being an unmarried woman, it’s mighty wicked to think of her like we was a couple. Plus I wouldn’t have the courage to hold her hand if it were real. I bet it’s so soft and mine gets so sweaty when she’s around…”

Knoth banged the back of his head against the wall.

“Gosh, you okay in there?”

“Have you done anything worthy of a confession?”

“That was my confession!”

“Then I want you to go home and think on this sin: wasting my damned time! I have a very important job here and redemption is not to be taken lightly! Now leave and don’t come back until you’ve done something worth contempt and it better not be about Jolene!”

“But my act of contrition!”

“Fast for a week! Now begone!” but peace would not come to Knoth. Not even a minute later came a voice, this one familiar.

“Forgive me, Father for I have sinned,” Marta grumbled.

Knoth shot up so he sat straight and tall. He slicked his hair back as if she could see him. “State your sins, my child,”

“That ain’t Papa in there, is it?”

“W-what?” Knoth made a poor attempt at heightening his pitch. “Why would it be the prophet? He’s very-very busy right now!”

“That’s a relief, because I don’t know what I’d do if he knew of the wickedness in my heart.”

Knoth leaned forward. “Oh?”

“Forgive me, for I have had sinful thoughts about the prophet.”

“You have now, have you?” He grinned.

“Yes, I’ve been fearful to say so, but I cannot keep it inside anymore. I must make my peace with God.”

“But such thoughts are only natural. You have no reason to feel shame. In fact you should embrace these thoughts. Lay yourself bare before God and tell me all about them.”

“I can, but...it might take a while.”

“There no time limit on repentance. Take all that you need.” He leaned back, hands behind his head.

“If you say so…”

Knoth’s heart skipped a beat in the silence before she continued.

“Last I saw of Papa, I could only think of one thing.”

“Yes?”

“It haunted me for many a night until I could no longer find rest.”

“What was it that haunted you?”

“Well...it may be hard to believe. I barely understood it myself, but it gnawed at my consciousness…”

“What was it? Do not be afraid, my child.”

“It was how bad his breath smelled.”

Knoth’s jaw dropped but Marta continued.

“It was at the same time I noticed the grime under his nails. It was almost as bad as his hair. It really could use a deep condition, but I doubt he’s bathed in years, though I don’t understand why. He just sits around and eats all day. Once it was so bad, I actually asked him why he was such a glutton. I was most grateful at the time that he did not hear me, but that does not erase my sin of doubting God’s chosen prophet.”

“Is...that all?” Knoth choked out.

“It is only the start. There was also my birthday last year. I lied about what happened to the crocs he made me as a gift. I told him I lost them, but the truth was I threw them into the lake during a fit of rage. I know it is a sin to lie in the face of the prophet, but I didn’t know what else to do. No one wears crocs anymore, and they weren’t even my size. How could he have forgotten I wore a size 16.5?”

As she spoke, Knoth stood and dragged himself out of the confessional. He wandered aimlessly around town in. Anyone who tried to greet him was greeted with groans or sobs until a half hour passed. Only then had he found the strength to return to the post, where Marta rambled still.

“Then there was the last time he indulged. He wasted an entire crate of communion wine, but rather than take pity, I simply wondered why he didn’t just switch to vodka. He’d get drunk a lot faster and save us the the blood of christ. I don’t even know how how a man could drink so much. If not for God’s good graces he’d have dropped dead years ago, and don’t even get me started on the prescriptions…”


	4. Temple Gate Gets Turnt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been a while, hasn't it? :3c

“Happy 82nd Birthday, Papa!” read the banner spread over town square. Last year’s “81st” was crossed out in sharpie. The area had been cleared to make room for tables of stews, pies, and breads, all homemade by the testament’s women while the men converted the gallows to a stage, where they gathered on their guitars and banjos. John even brought out his prized antique harmonica for the occasion, leading the band in a bluegrass rendition of “Happy birthday”. 

In the center of it all, stood Jolene. None could compete with her when she wore her prettiest blue dress and the summer sun shone off her flaming locks of auburn hair. “There’s our Papa!” she declared when Knoth tried to walk around the display. Skipping over to him, she seized his arm. “We done worked all night gettin’ this ready for you!”

Knoth’s aching joints and limping were no match for Jolene’s insistent tugging. She only released him when he stood before the entirety of his flock. 

“Happy birthday, Papa!” they proclaimed.

Wincing, Knoth grumbled, “It’s that time of the year already?”

“Same time as last year!” Jolene chirped. “And it’s gonna be the biggest shindig on this side of the mountain!”

“Is it now?”

“You bet your boots it will!”

“Wouldn’t that be dangerous?” Knoth forced a smile to feign well intentioned concern. “Such a grand affair will attract the heretics about.”

“That’s why we got Miss Marta!” Jolene waved and called out. “Yoohoo, Miss Marta!”

On the outskirts of the party, Marta paced the perimeter. She circumvented games of cornhole, horseshoes, and musical chairs, but paused to offer a wave to Jolene. 

“See! Safe and sound!”

Knoth could not see a trace of Marta as she patroled through his blindspot.

“Now let’s get this hoedown started!”

Everyone hooped and hollered at the declaration. The strum of the banjos picked up and the harmonica wailed. Couples do-si-doed around Knoth, trapping him in the center of the dance floor.

“C’mon, Papa! Let’s dance!” Jolene reached for his hands, but he scowled.

“Jolene, do you know what rheumatism is?”

“Nope!” Jolene beamed. “Is that another one of them fancy words ya use when speakin’ in tongues?”

Knoth narrowed his eye. “”It means I am physically incapable of dancing. I haven’t been able to in a decade.”

“Shucks, that’s no problem with the grace of God on your side! You just gotta believe!” She twirled deeper into the dance circle and Knoth turned his back to size up the potluck. He passed over the crispy salads, steaming stews, and savory barbeque for the untouched dessert table. Initially, he reached for one of the plates, but decided to take an entire tin of cheesecake and claim an empty chair. He was about to dig in when loony old man Simeon took the seat beside him.

“This spot taken?” he asked through a crooked toothed smile.

Knoth attempted to say it was but with his mouth full of cheesecake, his answer came out as an unintelligible grumble that Simeon took as a, “yes,” and plopped down.

“Great! I was hopin’ I could bother ya fer some advice, if ya don’t mind! Now I know it’s yer special day, so I won’t take up too much of yer time, but it’s dreadful ‘portant!”

“Uh-huh.” Knoth said, pretending to pay attention.

“It’s about Jolene.” Simeon’s gaze drifted to Jolene who danced alone in the center of the square. A gaggle of men stared at her, their faces flushed and voices quiet. When Jolene waved at them, they scattered leaving her to frolic and twirl alone. “Y’see...I was wondering, since yer real good with women if you could give me some tips on how t’ask her to dance, but she’s got some mighty fine dancin’ steps and I dun’ know how I’d be able to keep up and e’en if I could she’s just so gosh darned purty--”

Knoth ignored the rambles in favor of another forkful of cheesecake. The breading was flaky and scrumptious, the cream perfectly sweet and savory, and just cool enough to offer solace from the summer sun, yet Knoth called Marta over from the shadows. Simeon still prattled on about about the time Jolene wore her hair up in a pink ribbon God knows how many sermons ago.

“What is it, Papa?” Marta grunted over him after sulking over.

“Marta, dearest, I hate to bother you, but I could use your help.”

“Is there something amiss?” She narrowed her eyes and scanned the area.

“Yes.” Knoth held up the cheesecake. “You see this? This is the only way I’m going to survive today, but it just isn’t going down right. That’s why I need a mimosa to wash it down. I’d find something myself, but all these people brought is unspiked punch. You understand I can’t work with that. I need a mimosa, but just one. I don’t want anyone else here having one. You could if you want, but that’s it.”

“That would require I leave you unguarded. The festivity will be open for the enemy’s attack.”

“20 minutes can be spared for a mimosa.”

“But every precaution must be taken,” Marta insisted. “I’m sure any other would be most honored to fulfill your request.”

“You really think I can trust these idiots?” Knoth motioned to a trio helping their companion who choked on a stem from the last round of bobbing for apples. On his right, Simeon recalled a time Jolene told him a knock-knock joke from a popsicle stick. “Just make me a mimosa and I’ll save you a slice of cheesecake.”

“If ye say so, but keep a wary eye while I’m away. We don’t know who could be watching in these dangerous times.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say.”

Initially, Marta left without consequence. Simeon still prattled on, Jolene continued to dance, and Sister Anne inquired about the missing cheesecake she worked all night preparing for the occasion.

Then came a distant screeching. It echoed off the canyon walls like a strong gust of wind. None assumed it anything else until it was too late.

From every direction, heretics broke through the party perimeters. They raided the food table and devoured the feast laid out. Not one bothered with silverware. Another group invaded the dance floor. By then most of the testament fled, screaming, but Jolene continued to dance, unaware of the chaos until someone caught her hand.

Val pulled her in from her twirl, crooning, “Hey Jolene.”

Jolene flushed as she met Val’s piercing blue eyes. “O-oh my! Well….I uh….howdy there.”

Chuckling, Val circled an arm around her waist to bring her in. “Wanna dance?”

Breathless, Jolene accepted.

Val took her in to close the distance between them. Grinding against her, Val instructed Jolene on the new, brazen style of dance, not unlike a hip-hop music video. The rest of the heretics terrorized the band into picking up the pace, banjos ablaze.

Simeon shot up from his seat, joined by several other of the testament’s men.

“Now who’s that handsome gentleman!?”

“Looks more like a lady if ya ask me!”

“Well whatever they are I don’t like how friendly they be gettin’ with Jolene!”

When Val dipped Jolene for a view of her ample bosom, the men gathered their pitchforks, shovels, and hoes.

“C’mon boys! We gotta defend her honor!”

They charged to the dance floor, but a heretic met each one. They clawed and snarled as they fought off the gardening tools. Wives rushed to cheer their husbands in their valiant battles, throwing rocks at the heretics.

Knoth never left his seat.

“Your mimosa.” Marta cast a shadow over Knoth. In her hand was the beverage in a dingy mason jar, but when Knoth went to take it, Marta held it out of his reach. “Our agreement,” she grunted.

Knoth looked down at the ravaged cheesecake tin in his lap. There was just enough left to count as a proper slice. When he handed it to her, she surrendered the mimosa.

“Happy birthday, Papa,” Marta said, looking out at the riot.

Knoth chugged the mimosa in one gulp.


End file.
